SPECTRUM: We might what to rethink mail-in voting

There’s the old and oft repeated quote from Winston Churchill that is a favorite among politics wonks, both professional and hobbyists: “Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.”

It’s a good one, but I had a college professor who offered my class a better one: “Democracy is dealing with yourself on your worst day.”

Over the years, I’ve amended that nugget of wisdom with my own experiences: “Democracy is dealing with the idiot who rear ends you because he’s talking on his damn cell phone and forgot he was driving on a road with other cars and stuff. On his worst day.”

As a student of politics, it can be both incredibly easy and alluring to slip into a zone of confidence, where all the philosophy, electoral history, and precedent one has studied can appear as a functioning model that can be applied to the present day. After all, I spent so much money on those text books, so many hours in those lectures, and so much time generally convincing myself that I knew the first thing about why things happen and how they will play out. Stability is really attractive.

But there is no stability or reliable predictability in politics. At least, nothing with any uniformity spanning geography and time. Projecting what I would consider rational human behavior shatters the minute people head to the voting booth. We value democracy because the more simple, easier-to-predict systems are generally that way because they are run by a despot.

Representative for All Alaska Don Young told his Democratic challenger in 2014 that the last man who touched him was dead. He acted like Archie Bunker after a nine day bender when he told a group of Wasilla high school students that suicide was generally associated with a lack of support from family and friends – five days after one of their classmates had taken their one life. He also broached the topic of “bull sex” when another student asked about marriage equality. And then he won by ten full percentage points against the strongest general election challenger since 2008. Young still won by a healthy margin after saying things that should be immediately disqualifying because Alaskans have, by and large, come to understand reelecting Young as a tradition, not an election.

Turns out he’s a trendsetter.

Leaving aside the resident at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. (or is it Mar-a-Lago?) as a readily available example of this new phenomenon, we could also turn to last week’s special election for the sole seat in the U.S. House of Representatives for Montana. Montana is a red state. The seat hasn’t been held by a Democrat since 1996. So, Greg Gianforte – the Republican in the race, fresh off an unsuccessful bid for governor last year that awarded him plenty of name recognition – was the obvious favorite over first time candidate Rob Quist batting for team blue. Then, Gianforte assaulted a reporter. The next day, he was punished by voters, winning only by six percent rather than the before-body-slam projected ten percent.

Way to send a clear message, Montana electorate.

Democrats have floated numerous boiler plate excuses for the loss. A flawed candidate. Trump won Montana by more than 20 points. The Democratic National Committee was late to the game in offering financial support and campaign resources.

But the most (albeit speculative) tangible answer is much simpler and should cause Anchorage voters a sober moment of pause in hopes of saving us from a drunken stupor of “Why, God, why?” In April of this year, the GOP-led Montana state legislature killed a measure that would have made special elections exclusively vote by mail. This would lend a stronger voice to rural Montanans, advantaging Republicans. While that measure flopped, Montana is one of 28 states that allows absentee ballots without a reason. Estimates of how many votes were banked well before Gianforte lifted a Guardian reporter by the neck and threw him to the floor are estimated to be between 37 percent and more than half of total ballots cast.

Think about that. The upper range of estimates posits that the majority of the electorate had already picked their pony. There are no backsies. Gianforte could have, as Trump put it during his campaign, “stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody” and he wouldn’t lose a single early vote.

A little over two years ago, the Anchorage Assembly passed a measure similar to the one that failed in the Montana state legislature – but not limited to special elections. All registered voters in the municipality, starting next year, will be mailed absentee ballots three weeks before the citywide April elections and the 122 polling places will be reduced to just a few. The League of Women Voters Alaska and Anchorage, the Anchorage NAACP, and other groups supported the move. It passed the body unanimously. And their logic is sound. It’s difficult to find poll workers with the time to volunteer and increasing access to voting should always be the goal. And over the past five non-mayoral municipal elections, the average turnout has been under 23 percent. That’s pathetic. Vote by mail increases turn out for local elections by 7.6 percent, according to the U.S. Election Assistance Commission. That would still be pathetic. But, I mean, it would be less pathetic.

“Should be good,” Assembly chair Dick Traini said after the 2015 resolution passed.

But, for all the legitimate benefits that come with a mostly-exclusive mail in ballot, there is one fatal flaw: Time. As much as three weeks of time, if you want to get it over with. The last few weeks of any campaign cycle is the crux of the circus. It’s when candidates get desperate and choose to do desperate things that could – and often should – translate to lost votes. Like, off the top of my head, a mayoral candidate claiming her opponent supports father-child marriages. Voters should be able to callibrate for things like that before they cast their votes.

By switching to vote by mail, we’re doing a lot of things right. But it will take time away from people making decisions that could translate to grave consequences. And it will give desperate (or dim) candidates a window to do even more desperate things without worried that an “October Surprise” could turn into the moment of fail that ultimately does them in.

Time heals all wounds, I’ve heard. But I can’t help but worry that, in this case, lost time can also leave a lot untreated.

John Aronno is an Anchorage resident.